Systole & Diastole
by aghamora
Summary: "She was born into power." A look at the life of season five's villainess, Pilar Zuazo. Pilar/Esteban, oneshot.


**Summary:** "She was born into power." A look at the life of season five's villainess, Pilar Zuazo. - - Pilar/Esteban, oneshot.

**Note: **I have not yet seen the majority of season six, so this is written with only what I know from up to the finale of the fifth season and about the first two episodes of the sixth. If the names of Esteban's father or first wife were ever mentioned in the show, I apologize for giving them my own in this piece.

Keep in mind as well, that for the most part of this, Pilar and Esteban would be speaking Spanish to each other – not English as it is written. I've only done this because, well, I don't speak Spanish. Finally, the end of this story is purposely written in present tense; it is not a mistake.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing you recognize.

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><p><em><strong>Systole &amp; Diastole<strong>_

* * *

><p>She was born into power. Her father, the late industrialist, Raul Zuazo, always told her to remember who she was; to never forget that she was a Zuazo, the best of the best. Sometimes, though, she doubted that the lifestyle she had was the best of the best, for she was born not only into power, but into great danger as well. It seemed as though every month, someone her father knew was killed in a 'freak accident,' or disappeared without a trace. She went to too many funerals to count, but as a child, it never scared her like it should have.<p>

Her world was only her father's grand mansion in Mexico City, and anything that happened outside the doors of his home seemed billions of miles away to the young girl. Her father doted on her and gave her everything she desired, for she – as his only child and sole heir to the Zuazo wealth – was the future of her family. Pilar never knew who her mother was, what she looked like, how she talked. Raul never spoke of the woman or what had become of her, and she never had the courage to ask. It seemed as if it was a topic he did not want to open for discussion.

Her father was a strong man, with an angular face and what seemed like an endless amount of determination and strength in his eyes. His hair was thick and dark, but faded to an untimely grey hue near the end of his days. Raul was the one who had built the Zuazo fortunes to great heights; his father had owned only a small bank in Leon, but through a series of good investments, Raul brought glory to the Zuazo name. Although Pilar did not know until later in her teenage years, her father also took part in many an illegal activity to make money as well. It was, in the end, his lawless undertakings that cost him his life.

But he had much influence in Mexico, and he expected Pilar to maintain that influence when it was her turn to take over the family's fortunes. From the time she was school-aged, he ordered her the best tutors, and did not hesitate to provide her with the best education he could. Raul expected great things from his daughter – many great things. He expected her to be wise, to know what was prudent and what was not, and he expected her to be shrewd, but mostly, he expected her to be strong, for he had known that a weak woman running his business would never make it as an influential crime queenpin and media mogul. So Raul raised her strong, and Pilar never forgot it.

* * *

><p>When she was seven, her papa introduced her to a wealthy politician who had recently arrived in town with his son, Carlos Reyes. His young son, Esteban, had trailed behind him like an obedient puppy, and said next to nothing when he first saw the young girl, as he was unaware of what the future would bring them. Back then, they had just been the children of two powerful men, introduced only as a mere formality.<p>

They'd been standing in the gardens of her family's home, with flowers blooming everywhere she'd looked and bees busily working with the plants. It was the middle of summer, and she was wearing a light yellow sundress, with a little flower tucked behind one ear and a cheerful smile painted on her youthful face. He had been dressed in a miniature, child-sized tuxedo, and even back then, she was fascinated with him. Esteban was dashing, and Pilar was captivated by him within minutes, perhaps because she never had many acquaintances as a child.

"This, _mi amor_, is Esteban. His family has just moved to town. Say _hola_," her father nudged her forward toward the boy lightly, and she took the hint.

"_Hola_, Esteban," she'd greeted with a friendly extension of her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Pilar," he shook her hand, but kept his eyes on the ground and his voice low. She gave him a quizzical look; she had never heard anyone speak in that language to her before.

"_Español_!" his father had scolded in a booming voice, causing both children to jump.

"_Hola_, Pilar," he repeated. The second time he greeted her, his voice was even less audible than before. Pilar felt sorry for him, but after a moment, Carlos just shook his head and laughed, joking with Raul about how the boy was "just practicing his English."

She'd wanted him to speak more of the mystical language called English, but his father whisked him away only minutes later to have lunch with another family in town. Knowing well the fate of many important people and their families in Mexico, she found herself hoping that it wouldn't befall the handsome boy with the magical tongue. Pilar wanted to see him again.

* * *

><p>The summer she turned eighteen, her father, with his eyes sunken in and bleak, told her she must go study abroad – in France or England, perhaps. Anywhere she wanted, he said, he would see that she got there. Despite her age, she still had not understood the peril her family was in, and that he was doing it only for her safety. Raul did not keep his daughter much involved in financial affairs; he thought it an unnecessary burden for her to bear at such an age, when it was not likely she would take over his legacy for many years. Even still, he had made deals, with bad and dangerous people – crime bosses who wanted his life, and wouldn't hesitate to pay for it. Her father knew that a life was the cheapest and yet most important thing that could be paid for in Mexico, and he wanted hers to be protected if ever his was taken.<p>

"All right, papa. I will go," she'd agreed without questioning, for she had known not to fight with her father over it. Pilar had known something was amiss, though no one would tell her with it was. She need not know, all the maids and servants had insisted. She would know when she was older.

"Then, _mija_, where would you like to study?" he'd asked. She had thought for a moment, opening up a map of the world in her head, and then decided.

"America." The world sounded strange rolling off her tongue, but she loved it. She was mesmerized by the concept of America; it seemed so strange, yet so wonderful. She'd wanted to go there ever since she first heard of it, when she was seven and heard Esteban speak their language. Pilar had known that her father did not particularly want her to go to America, but he nodded nonetheless. He had known that any place but Mexico was safe for her; he hadn't a choice but to agree.

Pilar packed her bags, and on the day she was scheduled to leave, stepped outside to get in the limo that was to drive her to the airport, her mind only on what life would be like in a land of foreigners. Up until then, she was caught up in a girlish world in which there was no evil, no villains, no death or blood or violence.

Almost the instant she first noticed her father standing out front to bid her farewell, however, Pilar heard gunshots, and her fantasy world was shattered_. One, two, three, four, five_ gunshots in quick succession boomed around the grounds of the mansion. In the blink of an eye, she saw Raul fall to the ground with multiple bullet holes on his body, his body limp and fatally wounded. She screamed and dropped her luggage, and ran over to where her injured father lay: in a bed of lilies near the front walkway. The blood…there was so much blood. She briefly wondered if the flowers would absorb it as if it were water. Raul motioned weakly for her to run the moment he noticed she'd come over to him, and soon, she heard more shootings.

They wanted her, too. She was the heiress to everything her father owned and, quite simply, her blood spilled would be nearly as valuable as her father's. Pilar, her heart pounding and her mind racing, ran back inside the house, and closed the door behind her, dead bolting it so no one could follow her. The bullets had only grazed her, but if she'd moved in a different way, or if she hadn't run when her father had told her to run, she would have died; she would've had _her_ blood seeping into a flowerbed as well. She leaned against the door, out of breath, and still in disbelief that her beloved papa lay only a few yards away on the other side of the wall, dead at the hands of a mystery gunman.

In the end, all his death did was make her cold and suspicious toward the world. Standing there only seconds after Raul breathed his last, she vowed to avenge him. She vowed that she would be feared and revered by everyone in Mexico. Not a soul would ever dare to challenge her; she would fulfill her father's dream, become the best of the best, make her family name untouchable. She swore it silently, with no witness but herself.

* * *

><p>Naturally, her trip was delayed, so that she could attend her father's funeral.<p>

After eleven years, she saw Esteban again, as he attended as the son of one of the chief mourners. One might think that she would've forgotten his face after so long, but she wouldn't forget him – no, never someone like him. Over the years, she had seen him in the distance at various parties and fundraisers, but they never spoke and hardly ever exchanged transient glances. He had grown taller and darker, and his voice deeper and stronger. He sounded more like the man he was becoming. Instead of merely shaking his hand when he came up to wish her well, she pulled him aside for a private walk in the church's garden, some distance away from the cemetery where the mourners were congregating.

"I am going to America, to study abroad," she informed him, and he nodded. He was still partially unsure of why she'd chosen himof all people to walk with, when they hadn't said a word to each other in over a decade and knew nothing about one another. Esteban hadn't spoken for a moment. He seemed to be deciding how to word something.

"Ah, yes. I've been there. It… is a pleasant country," Esteban responded, while absentmindedly caressing the petals of a red rose he had picked earlier on in their stroll. A thorn he had not seen on the stem pricked him, and he hissed in pain under his breath, drawing his hand away.

"You know English," Pilar stated, and once more, he had nodded. After pondering this for a minute, she tilted her head to one side, "I want you to come with me. To America."

Surprised, he looked up from the rose and stopped walking, "Why me?"

"You don't want to?" she halted in her tracks as well and looked over her shoulder at him. She raised an eyebrow, feigning hurt but, at the same time, still keeping a flirtatious look about her.

"I did not say that." For a second, he looked at her. Esteban didn't see grief in her eyes, but he did not think to question the lack of emotion for it was characteristic of the Zuazo family. Shewas Pilar Zuazo, anyway, and after the death of her father she was in control of one of the largest inheritances in Mexico; she didn't have to justify her whims to anyone. If she wanted to go somewhere – with him for company, of all the people she could take – then it was unthinkable that he should refuse. Even then, at just eighteen, she'd had invaluable connections in Mexico, passed down through her blood. To say no to her would be like saying no to a precious drink of water in the middle of the desert.

"I enjoy your company, Esteban Reyes. I am just sorry we haven't gotten to know each other better over the years," she gave him a seductive sideways glance, and saw that he was looking at her as well. In return, Esteban smirked at her – a dangerous, attractive smile that caused an ambitious glint to shine in his eye. She liked it; it reminded her of a sly tiger eyeing its prey.

He held out his hand for her to shake, just as they had done when they were young children, and she took it, "Then it is decided. I will go with you to America."

* * *

><p>"You cannot go to America."<p>

The words, spoken by one of her father's oldest friends and chief financial advisors, Ricardo Mendoza, made Pilar's blood boil the instant she heard them. They were meeting in the sitting room of her father's old Mexico City mansion, and had been sharing a nice, calm cup of tea while sharing fond memories of her father, until the news was brought to her attention.

"What?" she scowled. America was freedom, and she desperately needed to get away from this city. She was unsafe here, was she not? People wanted her life here just as they had wanted her fathers, and she was determined not to die the way he had. She would die an old woman, after a long, long life. She would not stay here and be murdered before her twentieth birthday!

"You are your father's only heir, _senorita_. His whole legacy and all his money are now yours; you can't just run off to a land of foreigners!" the old man exclaimed, and she wondered why her papaever had this man as a friend, let alone an advisor. He was insufferable, telling her what she could and could not do and acting as though his word was law.

Pilar exhaled, utterly furious at the man, and set her teacup down, stomping away as quickly as she could. She ordered a maid to show Senor Mendoza the door. She hated to admit it, but he was right. When everything her father worked for was hers to care for, she could not just push it away and run off to another country. And for what? What was there in America for her? It was just a land of people speaking a language she couldn't understand, she told herself. She had responsibilities in Mexico; she knew that. Who would manage his estate if she left? There was no one else.

Fuming mad, she dialed Esteban's number, and within half an hour he was at her front door.

"Senor Mendoza told me I cannot go to America," she had told him as soon as they were alone in the sitting room. He remained silent, but his eyes told her to continue speaking, and before Pilar could remember to control her emotions, they exploded, "Just like that! I-I cannot stay here; I will be shot to death, just like my father. Esteban, I do not want his legacy, any of it! Mark my words; it will cost me my _life_!"

Esteban saw that she was nearing hysteria, so he moved from his spot on a chair and seated himself next to her on the sofa.

"Calm yourself, Pilar-" he started, but she wasn't finished.

"People I know are killed all the time in accidents – but they're never _accidents_! One day, it will be me! _One day_, Esteban, someone will want my life, and they will be willing to do whatever it takes-"

"Listen to yourself! You're crazy. No one is going to kill you," he breathed out, before taking her shoulders into his hands, peering right into her eyes, and gently shaking her, "You have to stay here, in Mexico, Pilar. It's what your papa would've wanted." He spoke calmly, rationally, and she bit her lip, nodding in faked acceptance. Satisfied by her reaction, Esteban took his hands off her shoulders.

Pilar smiled with dreary, hopeless eyes, "So I guess I must resign myself to the idea of dying young, then."

"You will not die young," he assured her with a gruff voice. She had been about to say something else, when he placed his hand under her chin and drew his face toward hers, just so their lips were less than an inch away, "I promise you, Pilar Zuazo, that will not die before it is your time."

She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and it made her body burn in a way that she'd never felt before – a feeling that began between her legs, trailed up through her stomach, and ultimately crept into her mind. She rubbed her ruby red lips together and smirked, deciding to play along, "Will I be remembered?"

"Forever," he answered with a confidence she could not think to dispute.

In less than a second, his lips came crashing down on her lips, giving the girl he barely knew every bit of passion in his body. It was her first kiss, for she had never had much of a romantic life, and the shock of him initiating the embrace nearly paralyzed her mouth altogether, even though she knew she had been expecting it. However, soon Pilar memorized the rhythm of his mouth against hers, and began to respond to it, sliding her tongue under or over his whenever she felt him give a sign. Pilar couldn't understand what the signs were; only that she could identify them and reply to them just as quickly as she knew what they were. His hand held her chin lightly, and she placed her hand on his shoulder, pulling them closer in the minutes their mouths were together.

When the time came for them to break apart – after the kiss became stale and lost its initial excitement and hunger – she pulled away. Both their lungs were aching for oxygen, and so they just stared at each other, listening to the other's panting breaths as if they were as beautiful as the sound of crashing waves. She discovered how dark his eyes were, how shadowed with lust for her they had become. It excited her, to know that he wanted her in the way that – dare she say – she wanted him, too.

Eventually, she grew weary of playing silly games with her eyes, and opened her mouth to speak once more, "So I will not die young?"

He chuckled, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Of course not."

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><p>During the summer Pilar Zuazo turned eighteen, she and Esteban Reyes embarked on tumultuous relationship that would last for decades. Neither ever made it public, though, for Esteban often spoke to her of his wishes to enter into politics like his father, and she had reminded him how a romance with someone like her would only muddle up that type of career field. Besides, she'd continued, what was the point of telling anybody? It would accomplish nothing, in the long run. She had not a single problem with keeping it under wraps, and he assured her that neither did he.<p>

In the fall, Esteban went to America by himself to attend Columbia University, but visited her every chance he got. While he was away at school, Pilar's renown grew, and she became a philanthropist, donating money to various orphanages in Mexico, even though much of what she did was to avoid paying the hefty taxes imposed by the government on her wealth. Over time, she earned the respect of many men in power – even government officials, who fell in love with her beauty. Though much of what Pilar was she inherited from her father, she had a wit and charm that drew others to her like a magnet, and an army of suitors that she never paid any mind to. She made herself irresistible, easy to fall in love with, but she never would touch any man except Esteban.

Despite her fears of a premature demise, Pilar reached her twentieth birthday, and to celebrate, threw a _fiesta_ at one of her father's old villas near Cancun. Esteban, who was in Mexico for the summer, was invited, for even though she never specifically told him to attend, he knew when to be with her, and he knew when to be away. Over the two years of their secret flirtation, they had developed unspoken arrangements between each other to ensure the concealment of their relationship.

Nearly giddy, she had led him up into the main bedroom where she was sleeping that night and locked the door behind them. Then young and impulsive and looking for fun, Pilar knew full well what she was initiating, but did not really care.

"See, I promised that you would not die young," he took both her hands in a grand gesture and kissed them with the familiar grin on his handsome face and the sparkle in his eye. She smiled, and curtseyed to him, mocking his formal manner.

"Ah, but I am still young, and there is still plenty of time to die, isn't there?" she said the words happily, although they were grim. Laughing, Pilar made him spin her around as if they were dancing. She was ready to let go after she finished her childish twirling. He, however, had no intentions of letting her escape him so easily, and once she had finished spinning, Esteban pulled her into him, so that her breasts were pressed tightly against his chest and his mouth mere centimeters from her ear.

The smile was gone from her face in an instant, for the game had changed with his movement. Now it was no longer lighthearted; it was heavy, serious. The girlish fun disappeared in a flash, and it was replaced with that feeling – the one that stemmed from her lower body and set her senses ablaze with longing – for him, for a thing she wanted desperately but couldn't put into exact words.

"You are so beautiful_, mi amor_." His voice sent shivers through her body, and delight and fear through her mind. Pilar was not a naïve woman; she knew what was happening, knew what he wanted. He wanted _her_, and was going to take her, now, and she did not want to stop him, as she wanted him as well. Letting go of her inhibitions, she led him to the bed, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt with her small, shaking fingers, running her hands over the bare skin that was exposed underneath once the fabric was parted. It was gone from his body in seconds, and not long after that, her orange dress joined it in a crumpled pile on the floor.

Pilar's heart was racing. It was all going so fast, but any slower and she thought she would snap. Sweat began to form on her forehead in small droplets when his kisses moved lower, to her neck. It was all so incredible, like nothing she'd ever felt before – his hands all over her body, touching the places no one had ever touched before, unraveling the puzzle of her body that had gone unsolved before. She could not see, could not hear; she lost all but the ability to feel. In fact, all she could seem to remember how to do was feel – feel his kisses and his mouth crawling lower and lower down her body, sucking on her skin like it was the purest honey and he could not get enough to satisfy himself. She could feel the adoration he gave off for her in every touch, how mesmerized he was by her beauty and her soft gasps and groans. And finally, as the last few obstacles of clothing were removed, all she could feel was him, inside her, thrusting, pushing upward, anticipating an ecstasy and a sweet, sweet release. But she couldn't think about the end, yet, when she felt like she was going to perish right there then and there, from the build-up of the feelings coursing through her, driving her mad. Pilar had never felt this. Touching herself had never had this effect; it had never spawned an overwhelming animal lust like this. After the soft initial pain of lost virginity subsided, there was nothing but pleasure.

After a surge that almost made her lose control, she dug her long fingernails into his back, as if she was trying to mark her territory on the man on top of her. He winced at first, but eventually, it only seemed to intensify the feelings that had enveloped his mind wholly and left his manhood nothing but a hollow shell thrusting into her, seeking fulfillment, release. Neither said the other's name during the love making. The only things they could hear were a chorus of moans and gasps, and a faint Latin beat blaring from the party below.

When she reached her peak, though, she called out his name in such an airy, high-pitched tone that it made him climax inside her as well. Pilar kept saying his name, over and over, as she came down from her orgasm and fell back to earth. It felt like sugar on her lips – so, so sweet and flawless, like nothing could make it better as it was simply perfect on its own. Eventually, he pulled himself out of Pilar and lay down beside her, resting a hand on her waist and holding her small, trembling hand in his. She was still struggling for breath, and kept replaying the feelings of him inside her over and over and over, as if she would never get tired of imagining it, and craving it.

She rolled over, and looked at him to see if she had made him feel the way he had made her feel. An unwise part of Pilar wanted to tell him she loved him – for her foolish heart really believed that she did – but a force kept her voice trapped in her throat. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could be whisked away by the hand of death at any time, if ever he crossed the wrong person – but she knew that that applied to herself as well, for she too was doing the perilous dance of power and crime in Mexico. Unaware of her silent fears, Esteban kissed her on the lips one last time, and bid her goodnight in a low whisper. Once the manic tingling in her body subsided, Pilar was only able to hold onto consciousness for a second before she too submitted to slumber.

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><p>After that night, things changed between them. Theirs was no longer a fun, blithe affair – no, all the levity was gone. They had become lovers. They knew each other carnally; much, much more personally than before, and therefore theirs became a harder romance to conceal. They did not, however, see each other frequently. After Esteban graduated from college in America, he bought a house in Tijuana, and planned to run for mayor in the next elections, while she resided primarily in Mexico City where her father had made his fortune.<p>

During one of his trips to Mexico City five years later, he came to her in the evening, a single rose in hand and a smile on his face. She remembers the day well: she'd been clad in a tight dark red dress that ended at her knees, and he'd been in a tuxedo, as always. She led him to her back porch, and politely offered him a drink. He shook his head; he was not there to drink.

"As you know, I plan to run for mayor of Tijuana within the next year," he seated himself in a chair at a glass table beside the pool, and she sat across from him, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes focused on him.

"Yes. I have been using all my influence here to drum up the support you will need in the future," she responded before placing a tiny umbrella in her margarita and sipping it. There was, however, only so much she could do if she were in one city and he in another. She planned to buy a home in Tijuana in the near future, but she'd yet to take care of that.

"And it is my fear, that I will not be taken seriously if I am portrayed as a bachelor in the campaign." Pilar frowned, and stirred her drink with the umbrella for a moment while awaiting his response.

"What do you plan to do?" she tilted her head to one side, pretending she did not know the solution to his problems.

"I plan to marry," he told her, and Pilar nodded. She'd known it was coming ever since he told her of his career ambitions; she knew he'd have to marry. He would look far better if he had a wife beside him in his campaign posters, and he would be seen as someone who would commit to a cause he believed in; just as he had committed to a woman he loved.

"Ah, I see. Who do you have in mind?" she drawled the words out with a smirk. Esteban watched her in silence as she took a long, slow drink of her beverage, and eventually sighed, stiffening his back.

"I want you to marry me, Pilar." He did not kneel, and to her, it felt more like a business proposal than a marriage proposal.

As it'd been long trained to do, her face remained apathetic when he spoke the words to her, while her brain thought it over logically before registering any other emotion. No, it was a bad idea. She couldn't marry him; he hadn't even been elected yet! She couldn't gamble everything by marrying him before he became mayor. If he lost, she would be seen as merely the wife of a political failure – and no one would take her seriously again! As an ally to him, she would back him in the elections, but she would neverconsider marrying him. She had an image to keep up; a reputation to maintain, and if she tied herself to him she could never withdraw her support from his name on the ballot. Wedding an unsuccessful government hopeful would do nothing but tarnish the Zuazo name, anyway, not to mention rid her of the freedoms she enjoyed as an unmarried woman.

"No," she told him simply, and took another drink of her margarita. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began before he could say a word, "I will give you my support in the election, sure, but I will not marry you. I am a very powerful woman, you see."

"And I will be a very powerful man," his face was riddled with confusion. Did she not believe in him? Was she not certain that he would become mayor of Tijuana – perhaps even the governor of Baja California if fate was kind to him? He already owned numerous casinos and hotels; it was not as though he was a poor man.

"_Will be_ is no guarantee, Esteban. Of course I am confident in you, but marriages – and as a result, children – bring problems to far too many things, in my opinion. I prefer to stay single," she smiled at him.

"And so clandestine love affairs are… simple?" he tried to make sense of what she was telling him, and the boggled look on his face nearly made her laugh aloud.

"Yes, very," Pilar raised her eyebrows at him, wordlessly commanding him not to fight further as he would find it fruitless.

He sighed and got to his feet. She remained seated, "Well, then, I should be on my way. My flight leaves early in the morning."

"Have a safe journey, _mi amor_." He kissed both her hands as was his custom, but this time he did not leave directly after his lips made contact with her soft skin. His gaze stayed on her face for a second, almost as if letting her know that if she were ever to change her mind, he would be waiting. Knowing this, Pilar shook her head in response to his tacit promise, and right then, Esteban knew that waiting for her would do him no good.

* * *

><p>The next time Pilar was in Tijuana – a mere three months later – Esteban introduced her to his fiancée at a small party at his home.<p>

It surprised her, and yes, inside it did bother her a little bit, but she put on a charming face and shook the woman's hand with a smile. The daughter of a Tijuana real estate tycoon, her name was Constanza Vargas. Even Pilar had to admit that she was a rather lovely woman. Her dark hair was long and curled gracefully down her back. Her brown eyes were enchanting. Her face formed the shape of a heart when she smiled, and when she did, she showcased immaculately white teeth and full lips. She was not a thin woman like Pilar, but not unattractive, either.

Pilar knew that Constanza did not rival her in beauty, but she knew that the woman would look exceptionally good beside Esteban in pictures and advertisements. She seemed to have a subtle homeliness about her – not a ruthless ambition like Pilar. While Constanza's dress did not attempt to hug the curves of her body at all, Pilar's clung her figure flawlessly, seductively, in a way that attracted the eye of many men. While Constanza listened quietly in on conversations, Pilar joined in with her opinions, and made sure she was understood. The differences between their personalities were striking, and inside, she knew that Esteban would bore quickly of the demure Constanza – if he ever really loved her in the first place.

A few minutes before midnight, Esteban pulled her away from the party and folded his arms. He looked miserable at the prospect of marrying this woman. Immediately, she could see that he did not love Constanza; his eyes did not light up at all when he took sight of her, and he didn't embrace her as one madly in love with another should. It was painfully obvious to Pilar, but no one else seemed to notice. She figured it was only because she knew him well – they had slept together, after all.

"I hope this engagement does not bother you," he told her with troubled eyes. Though it did nag at her from the inside a little, she only chuckled. She hoped that, in time, she would learn not to care.

"Don't be silly, _mi amor_. She is a lovely woman. I am sure she will make you very happy," Pilar told him. Her tone seemed carefree, but she did not feel as though the situation was anything insignificant at all. She had strong feelings for this man, but she knew marrying him was not an option and therefore, would have to allow him to wed another woman. She was giving him away only because she knew could not keep him. If the circumstances were different, perhaps they could marry and be happy. However, Pilar was a woman who wielded an astounding amount of financial and political influence in Mexico; she could just not run off and marry whomever her heart desired. She had to choose her actions with the utmost prudence.

"I don't want to stop seeing you," Esteban said, causing her to adopt a coquettish edge in her voice.

"Well, as long as you don't go blind that should not be a problem," she purred.

He didn't play along, "You know I am not talking only in terms of sight." She suddenly became serious as well.

"Oh, I told you: love affairs are simple. Tell no one, and there will be no issue with your beloved," she chirped and grinned at him, before returning to the party and walking up to Esteban's fiancée boldly. She could feel his eyes on her as she approached the woman, and it made her smile.

With her eyes staring pointedly in his direction, she whispered in Constanza's ear, "I am sure Esteban will make you the happiest of women."

* * *

><p>One of the pieces of advice Pilar lived by was given to her by her father. He had always told her never to expose the affairs of the heart to anyone, for it wasn't wise to ever leave something so vulnerable out in the open. In time, she discovered that she wasn't really jealous of Constanza. Pilar knew that Esteban didn't love his fiancée. She decided that she'd only ever be envious of another woman if he truly fell in love with her; she would only have to worry if he didn't want to see her any more – and he'd made it quite clear that he did.<p>

She went to their wedding, but wore black as it if were a funeral. Pilar thought she should've been sad, but really, Constanza was no threat to her. Besides, she reasoned, she couldn't focus her entire world on Esteban; she had charities to donate to, campaign fundraisers for various politicians to attend, a reputation to uphold. Her time was occupied by many things, and he was just a love affair on the side. It was not like she didn't care – because she did – but she was just thankful that she had had enough sense not to tell him she loved him on that summer night when they'd first made love. She was a child, then. Pilar felt much toward him, but would never be silly enough to let him know. The affairs of her heart, she decided, would be known to none.

Up near the altar, she saw him fake every smile that came upon his face, while Constanza looked genuinely happy and in love. Pilar pitied them both for different reasons. That, she decided, was why she'd never marry. She would never be trapped in a loveless union by a man – any man, even Esteban. And, unlike Constanza, she would never fool herself into thinking a man really loved her, when his amours lied elsewhere.

Directly after the ceremony ended, a reception for the newlyweds was held at Esteban's – and now Constanza's – grand home in Tijuana. Although Pilar had been avoiding Esteban and making small talk with various guests about how lovely the bride and groom looked together, he pulled her aside and led her upstairs to a spare bedroom, where he shut the door behind them in attempt to recreate their first time together.

"I don't think your new wife would be happy to see you here with me like this," she taunted. He almost growled aloud in frustration and feverish lust for the woman standing in front of him; he was going to lose control because of her. She could see that he was angry with himself for marrying a woman he did not care for, but it was his fault and his fault alone. She was not about to give him her sympathy, nor was she about to open her legs to comfort him.

"I do not love her, Pilar," he kissed her roughly, and Pilar, hastily tearing her mouth from the embrace, smirked. She was glad to see that he'd stopped being so gentle; she needed excitement in her love life. However, she knew what she had to do and he wasn't going to thwart her by merely introducing something new into their affair. Drawing her mind out of her thoughts, Esteban looked her directly in the eyes and said, "It is you. It's always been you."

Although a part of her did not want to, Pilar backed away from him and moved to the door, "People talk, Esteban. With the upcoming elections, you cannot afford to have any scandal. It is better if we stop seeing each other. That way, a lack of suspicion is… a surety." Her manner appeared to be composed, while her heart was hammering within her chest, crying out from him in silence not to give up, to fight for her. She was giving him all the signs she would allow herself to give, and he was oblivious to all of them.

As though he still didn't understand why she was doing this, Esteban shook his head, and stepped toward her, "Pilar…"

She cut him off, "Enjoy your honeymoon."

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe that <em>bastard <em>Garcia won the election," Esteban spat, while pacing around the sitting room of Pilar's mansion in Mexico City. He brought a shot of hard liquor to his lips and swallowed it in a single gulp. Constanza and Pilar sat on the sofa before him. Constanza, then five months into her first pregnancy, gave repeated attempts to comfort her livid husband, while Pilar just sat in silence, enraged that she had given her support to someone who had failed to win the Tijuana mayor's vote – the _mayor's_ vote. Not even the vote for governor! If he could not win mayor, then governor would likely never happen. However, she was not willing to get too caught up on one loss. Already, her clever mind was strategizing for the next election.

"It is _all right_, Esteban. There are always the next elections," Constanza told him in a soft, motherly tone. She got up and touched him on the shoulder, and her mouth fell into a pout when he did nothing to acknowledge her.

"No," Pilar, who had been sitting mutely, finally spoke up in a strong voice. Esteban looked up at her – _her_, the lover who had halted their illicit affair solely for his failed political goals, "No, you will not run in the next elections. You need more time for the people to learn who you are. Besides, you don't want to give off a sense of…desperation for the office of mayor."

"By then people will have forgotten who I am!" he shook his head at her as if she was crazy. Pilar frowned at him, and set down the teacup she had been holding. Did he really have the nerve to challenge her? Without her support, he never would've had a chance at the vote in the first place!

"They won't forget if you stay involved with public affairs. They'll only forget you if you allow them to forget you!" she snapped back at him equally as harshly. Esteban was a bit surprised how rapidly the calm in her voice was gone. Really, Pilar knew that most of his frustrations with her were rooted in the way she'd ended their affair months ago, but she wasn't about to acknowledge that again. They were better off, she told herself. He had a wife and a child on the way, and they'd be smarter to let bygones be bygones.

"See, Esteban, Pilar is right. Oh, what would we do without you?" Caught in the middle of a discussion she hardly contribute to, Constanza smiled at her in a way that almost made Pilar feel guilty about the prior liaison with her husband. Esteban's wife put her hand on his shoulder once more, and this time, he turned to her. He pecked her on the cheek and smiled, but his smile was tired and defeated.

"You are right. I'll wait," he decided, before placing a hand around Constanza's shoulders and whispering something in her ear that made her laugh and kiss him. Pilar knew that he was trying to make her regret ending their affair with these displays of affection toward his wife; she wasn't stupid. But she could at least say that she'd never shed a tear over him and his marriage, and was never going to. Esteban was not worth her tears, she decided, and she wouldn't waste her thoughts on a relationship that was fated to end badly from the very start.

Shortly after, Esteban and Constanza departed, and after they were gone, Pilar couldn't help but feel the hugeness and emptiness of her mansion weighing down on her, pressing on her chest until she thought she would stop breathing. With a sigh that sounded almost mournful to her ears, she shook her head. It was not allowed to bother her.

* * *

><p>Months after the elections had ended, Pilar stood in the hallway of the hospital where Constanza, only half an hour ago, had given birth to her and Esteban's first child – a girl, named Adelita after Constanza's late mother. She looked out at the hospital's nursery, attempting to spot Esteban's daughter in the sea of babies, but to no avail. They all looked the same, she decided. There was no point. Honestly, Pilar couldn't understand why people wanted children so badly; she'd never fathomed the urge to procreate, to continue one's bloodline when all it would cause were pain and suffering.<p>

"Ah, I see her." Suddenly, she heard Esteban's voice from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes incredulous. She did not believe it for a second.

"I can't imagine how; they all look exactly the same," she observed. He chuckled under his breath at her, and stepped closer to the glass separating them from the nursery. Esteban squinted at the children, and then smirked.

"She's beautiful. She has… her mother's eyes," he sounded a bit dismayed by his last words, and so Pilar turned to face him.

"You wanted her to have your eyes," she stated. Esteban did not make eye contact with his former lover, and instead focused his glance on the nursery before them, but she knew she was right. He shrugged, and stepped forward so that they were side by side.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

Pilar said nothing. She bit her lip and tried to make sense of the silence that followed – a silence neither could seem to fill. They weren't on good terms, and hadn't been since Esteban married Constanza over a year ago and she stopped their trysts. Pilar was unsure whether or not it would be judicious to resume their affair, now that he was fast coming into the public eye and gaining respect amongst leading politicians – respect that they would both lose immediately if it were leaked to the media that Pilar Zuazo and Esteban Reyes were engaging in a surreptitious relationship behind the back of his loving wife and infant daughter. Though she hated to admit it, Pilar could only manipulate the press to a certain extent. She did not have total domination and couldn't stop gossip from spreading. Rumors were more often than not based in truth, she had learned, and somehow, if they began, they would spread like an uncontainable wildfire. They would never end if she allowed them to begin.

"I'm… tired of this, Pilar," his voice was low and held a familiar note of desolation in it. Still, they did not look at each other as they spoke.

"I must say, I am surprised. You've only been a father for – what? Half an hour?" she grinned to herself. Esteban, who was used to responses like that from the woman beside him, shook his head.

"No, not fatherhood. I am tired of acting like merely a… business associate to you. I know that you did what…you did, because of my career ambitions-"

"But you won't be running for office again for a while?" she finished for him. Pilar turned to Esteban with blazing eyes. For once, though, he was not going to be deterred by her temper, "So what do you propose we do, Esteban? Do you suggest that you and I risk everything we've _ever _worked for in our lives, on a romance that is headed nowhere? Is that what you're recommending?"

"Yes," he hissed under his breath without a second thought. Within moments, he had her pressed against one of the hospital's white walls, and was enacting a well-thought-out siege on her lips, attempting with all his might to make her think again. He could see that he was gradually weakening her with his touch, and he grinned in satisfaction, moving his mouth down to her neck so that she would be able to reply.

After a while, Esteban looked at her with curiosity, taking notice that she had said nothing since he had begun kissing her. She was looking off in the distance and did not pay mind to his gaze, but he could observe a slight content in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a while – not since she had broken off their affair.

Finally, Pilar took hold of his inquisitive stare and, though it may have been against her better judgment, responded breathlessly, "Good."

* * *

><p>Over the course of the next seven years, Constanza gave birth to two more daughters. Esteban played the part of loving father to his family with a smile on his face, but when the nights grew cold or his heart filled with restlessness, it was Pilar's bed that he came to – not Constanza's. He'd tell her everything, sometimes even things that he would've been smarter to keep to himself. Over time, Pilar learned of his criminal activities and his cartel, but they did not surprise her, for many people in power engaged the very same type of business – including Pilar herself. Eventually, she learned everything about him, but back then, she had no intention of ever threatening him with it. She knew the skeletons in his closet, but had shut the door on them.<p>

After many years of staying in an unhappy union with Constanza, he came to her one night with a heavy heart. He'd been growing increasingly troubled with his marriage, and she'd seen him become colder and colder toward his wife, though the woman did nothing to incur it upon herself. Esteban had begun to hate himself for marrying her solely for his political ambitions; Pilar knew it.

"I want a divorce," had been just about the first words out of his mouth, but she'd seen them coming and they did not catch her off guard. She'd known this was going to happen, and she'd long feared it. It would hurt his career, and the public would begin to wonder: why? Why had he divorced a perfectly good woman who did nothing to him or his three lovely daughters? Rumors would spread. People would start to wonder if there was another woman, she knew it. Why would he end it if he loved Constanza? they'd ask. There must've been someone else, someone who had distracted him from the very start of his marriage.

"May I ask why?" she acted as if she hadn't a clue why he would want to end his marriage, as if they were both madly in love with each other. The thought made her want to laugh.

"You know why, Pilar. I cannot stand next to her and smile for the cameras and pretend to adore her when I don't. I cannot pretend that I love her!" He spoke emphatically, but she was ready with a quick reply.

"What do you hope to accomplish with his divorce, Esteban? I won't marry you. You will hurt your chances at becoming mayor – at becoming governor! You are a _fool_ if you think that this will go undetected by the press," she lashed out at him sharply. Sometimes, she mused, it was hard to tell that they were lovers, for their talks of business would be so far dissociated with romance that even they themselves would occasionally forget of their nights together.

"I cannot do it anymore. I have done it for years, but no longer. I will speak to a lawyer in the morning," he told her. At this, her temper flared. Perhaps it was the fact that he had not been asking for her approval; he had been telling her what he was going to do and doing it without caring whether she liked it or not. As Esteban began to walk away, her voice sounded out to halt him.

"Then if you must, do it. Just remember, though, Esteban Reyes, that I made you, and I can destroy you. But if continue at this rate, you will destroy _yourself_ first," her tone was fierce, unassailable. He could say nothing in response; he hadn't the words, and cursed himself, for he never seemed to when it came to arguing with her. Pilar grinned. She knew that she had struck him speechless, and the knowledge of this satisfied her.

Esteban walked away without another word. Within the year, his divorce was finalized. Constanza and their three daughters moved to France, while Esteban remained in Mexico. Despite her fears, the separation did not greatly damage his public image; people still widely respected him. But more importantly to Pilar, they did not think any less of her for giving her support to a man going through a divorce. Although some did not take the news well, she knew that it could have been worse – much worse. Many simply turned a blind eye, and those that didn't were 'persuaded' by Pilar and the people that worked for her.

Many more years passed, and they enjoyed a relatively happy secret affair during the time. She bought a mansion in Tijuana so she could more effectively manage his campaign – and see him more often. After entering in the elections again, Esteban became mayor, with the support of Pilar and countless other people in power. Although the pair did not always see eye to eye, she occupied the sole place in his heart for what seemed like an incalculable number of years. He deferred to her for most everything in business, and almost never questioned her judgment. All that time, she pretended that his love meant nothing to her, when in fact, it mattered more than she cared to admit. But all was well, and nothing came between them.

For years, Pilar Zuazo had Esteban under her thumb and her thumb alone – until Nancy Botwin and her family stumbled across the border.

* * *

><p>She was not fazed when she was told of one Nancy Botwin at first. She was only operating a maternity store as a drug front – one of many drug fronts that Esteban controlled. And like Esteban, Pilar did not micromanage. She took no particular interest in the business because, simply, she had more important things to worry about.<p>

Then, changes in Esteban began to come to the surface. He distanced himself from her, and she could not seem to pull him back in like she had always been able to do. Knowing full well that he would never tell her himself, she contacted Cesar, Esteban's right hand man in the cartel. Cesar was aware of Pilar's power in Mexico and knew what she was capable of, and as a result, told her everything she wanted to know.

He told Pilar of their secret meetings at hotels late at night; times when Esteban had called her to tell her he was busy that night and could not meet her. He told her of the way Esteban would pine for Nancy nearly every day he was at work, as well as how the Botwin woman was a dangerous, dangerous influence on him, how she made him reckless and careless. Cesar did not hesitate to inform her of the threat she posed to the security of the cartel, but Pilar had stopped listening to him. After all the years of being the only one to reign over his heart, she was dethroned suddenly, cast off like an article of clothing that no longer suited its wearer's interests.

She didn't know much about this woman, but one thing was certain to Pilar. Esteban Reyes no longer loved her. The echo of those words reverberated around her skull for days, weeks. He no longer loved her. After more than two decades, he no longer loved her. It was unfathomable to Pilar, and had happened so quickly. One day, he just simply drifted away, beguiled by this evil woman. In the past, she'd acted like their affair meant nothing to her, but it was never true. Esteban was never an idle game for her to play in her spare time, though she often made him feel that way. And he wouldn't have known, would he? She had never told him how she felt, regardless of the hundreds of times they slept together and told each other things they told no one else. Not once. It didn't take her long to find that it was her own fault, her fault for holding back, her fault for never totally letting him in lest one of them be killed in one of Mexico's many drug cartel wars and she lose someone else close to her again.

Pilar confronted him about it one evening at his Tijuana mansion, when they were alone in the dining room and sitting across from each other at the table, discussing his possible ambitions for the office of governor directly after finishing a dimly lit dinner.

"So, Esteban," she cut into the mundane discussion with striking purpose, "Tell me, who is this Nancy Botwin I have heard about?"

He was caught off guard for a second, but recovered in record time and cleared his throat. For some talking about his lover with another of his lovers, she thought, he was surprisingly composed, "She is the…owner of a maternity store drug front."

Still, it maddened her how nonchalant he could pretend to be. She slammed her hands down on the table and stood up, causing Esteban to blink at her sudden, hostile series of movements. The silverware clattered on the plates between them, "I am not a naïve woman, Esteban Reyes, and despite your best efforts, you are not a good actor. I don't believe the best in people; I always make _sure_ to believe the worst. So when one of my informants tells me that you meet this woman, Nancy Botwin, in hotels late at night, they must be lying, no?"

"Pilar-" There was no stopping her; he knew it. She already had the truth and needed no answers to her questions. Anything he could say would only make things worse.

"So he is lying, isn't he?" her voice began strong, but the confidence waned on the last few words. For the first time in a long while, Pilar's speech faltered, and her poise wavered. How could he just sit there and look her in the eyes while sleeping with another woman? Had he no shame? Did he not still adore her above all others, still want to marry her?

"No, he is not lying." Finally, Esteban got to his feet as well, so their faces were level.

"Why then, Esteban? Why would you start fucking a brainless American slut working one of your drug fronts? What qualities has she that are so special?" she spat hatefully. Was she not enough? She could only wonder. Did she not satisfy him enough? Pilar had been sure that she had, for he'd never expressed any dissatisfaction with their lovemaking. From what she could tell, she had done everything right and nothing wrong.

When he started to speak, his voice became low and raspy in the way it did whenever the situation became serious, "I have loved you for more than twenty years, Pilar Zuazo. When I was married to Constanza, we risked our careers to be together – and I did not regret it at the time. But I have had enough of… your coldness." She opened her mouth to speak, but for the first time, he was the one to continue speaking. With his eyes drilling into hers, Esteban's manner of speech was grave, "In theory, Pilar, I am but a pawn to you. Though it is not official, you are my boss, and in the end, I do not want to sleep with a woman who will constantly remind me that she created me, and can destroy me too."

Pilar nearly gasped in shock. She had never had anyone be that candid with her, that honest and open. It shocked her to the core that he of all people should be the one to tell her how it was. She barely even saw him as he bid her farewell and left without kissing both her hands like he always did; she could only stand where she was at the table, her motionless eyes holding a look of fury yet emptiness within them. Eventually, she sank into the chair, and her heart began to beat, faster and faster. By the way he had looked at her – with such indifference, such apathy – she knew her prior prediction was right. She knew that he no longer loved her.

The changes in him left her stunned – and concerned. Cesar was right; this woman was no good for him. She was changing him, and soon, she'd make him reckless enough to endanger his career and his cartel. Pilar decided that this Nancy Botwin had to be taken care of. That _gringa_ could not continue to be in Esteban's life if peace in their worlds was to continue.

* * *

><p>When Pilar first learned of how Nancy had ousted the tunnel in her shop to the DEA, she had assumed that the whore had sealed her own fate, and that no drastic measures would have to be taken at all on her part. Pilar knew that Esteban was not a complete fool – he would, at the very least, kill her quickly and discreetly.<p>

But then her chief informant, Cesar, continued on with the story, though the ending could've been happy had he stopped there. Not only had Esteban spared her life, but he spared her life because she was carrying his child, presumably a son – his only son.

She called Esteban to her Tijuana mansion under the pretense of yet again discussing his gubernatorial ambitions, but the instant that he arrived at her front door and looked at her face, he knew that politics would not be the topic of their conversation.

"Before you met this _gringa_, Esteban Reyes, you were not a fool. I valued you as a smart man. But she has made you an idiot – an idiot who has risked the security of his entire fucking cartel for her. And now!_ Now _that she has exposed a valuable trafficking tunnel of yours, you did not kill her! What has gotten into you?" she demanded. The woman must have some kind of evil, unnatural control over him, to make him such an utter imbecile.

"She is carrying my child, Pilar. I could not just…kill her-" They arrived in her kitchen – a place she rarely visited – and stood across from each other, two scowls folded onto their faces.

"Why? What was stopping you? Do you even have proof that this child is yours?" That had caught him off guard, and he shook his head.

"I do not-"

"Then you should've killed the fucking whore when you had the chance," she moved closer to him, her fury hanging in the air. Esteban could nearly feel the fire in her eyes burning him, and he knew that she was regretting ever investing her time in him.

"I could not have the murder of a pregnant woman on my conscience," he told her gruffly. His anger began to build at her indifference to the fact that Nancy Botwin was carrying what might be his only son – his only chance to carry on the Reyes name. Didn't she understand? Then again, he thought, she was a cold woman. She did not understand family, or love.

"And yet you have the killings of so many others on it," she observed coldly. Being that close to him still brought out the animal in her, and Pilar could tell that he was having trouble controlling himself as well, what with their proximity to each other and their angry, heated words. Even though he loved the Botwin woman, she thought, she could still make him desire her, for he was a man with a man's desires and she was a beautiful woman who, in the past, had been an exceptional lover to him, doing things to him that this _gringa_ had likely never done and never would do.

"Pilar…" his voice lowered into a seductive, gravelly tone – a tone marked by lust for her. Esteban tried to fight it, but in the end, his efforts were futile. He was furious at Nancy for betraying him, furious at himself for letting her in in the first place, and furious at the woman before him for making him want her so much that, with every breath, he felt as if needed her more. It angered him to no end. He didn't want to desire her so much, but his body betrayed him, and his logic left him deserted.

She walked toward him until their bodies were against each other, then she began to taunt him, "Tell me, Esteban: do you think of me when you fuck her? Do you imagine it is me when she digs her nails into your back, calls out your name? And when you come inside her, do you still hear me _screaming_ for you?"

Her words had the desired effect, for the next thing Pilar knew, he was ripping her clothing off, and she was clawing her nails into his back without shame, without a care that the Botwin whore might see the markings and suspect an affair. In fact, she wanted the _gringa_ to see them, so that she would realize Esteban Reyes was hers and had been for many years, even if his baby was growing in her belly. Each time she drew a drop of blood from his skin, she reminded Esteban without words that he was hers alone – and would never be Nancy Botwin's.

* * *

><p>When Pilar first heard of Esteban's plans to marry Nancy, her wrath toward the couple climbed to new heights. She knew that it was not a marriage for political ambitions – as his union with Constanza had been – but instead a marriage for love, or whatever he had deluded himself into thinking love was. Pilar hated Nancy and she hated that brat in Nancy's stomach who, Esteban had later told her, was indeed his first and only son.<p>

She stormed into his mansion one evening, her bodyguards trailing behind her. She invited herself in, and hastily set out to find and confront Esteban about his absurd engagement to a foreign woman. On her way to find him, she ran into a heavily pregnant woman in the kitchen, whom she could only assume was Nancy Botwin. Upon seeing her, her anger swelled. She had never seen the woman in person and had many things she wanted to say to her, but she simply strutted by her and out back, toward Esteban, who was clad in his ridiculous fencing outfit. After reading him the riot act about his crazy plans to marry the _gringa_ who was standing in the kitchen, watching them silently, she stalked out the way she had come in.

This time, however, as she passed Nancy, she stopped for a short second. She could think of a million things to say to the woman who had stolen Esteban away from her: that she hated her, that she wanted her dead, that she would do everything in her power to make her miserable. However much she wanted to scream at her just as she had yelled at Esteban, Pilar only stopped for a moment and then continued out the door.

She cursed that woman in her head, swearing that she would hate her until she died. She and her family had no right to storm into Mexico and fuck up a relatively happy world. Nancy Botwin had no right to make Esteban Reyes fall in love with her, and Pilar swore – right then as she looked into the startled woman's wide, doe eyes – that she would make her and her family regret ever entering Mexico. Her revenge on the woman would be quiet and discreet.

* * *

><p>"You cannot acknowledge this child as your own," she told him bluntly, shortly after the <em>gringa<em> had gone against their wishes and had given birth to the child in a hospital. The tea they had been having together in the sitting room was disrupted by the news, and so they stood in one of the many hallways of her mansion, as she watched him pace back and forth, rubbing his chin in silent contemplation while he took in the gravity of the situation.

"Are you crazy-" he looked up at her, incredulous. He'd never thought of what would happen if the news of his and Nancy's son became public, and it did not make him happy to know that he could not claim the boy as his own flesh and blood, therefore throwing the young child's future into uncertainty.

"No I am perfectly reasonable. This bastard child will endanger your career – even more so than your affair with Nancy in the first place, _or_ your divorce from Constanza. Your public image has taken many hits already, Esteban. I fear what would happen if it took another, and if you are not an idiot, you should too."

"My son is no bastard," he told her firmly. His newfound courage was one of the many things she hated Nancy Botwin for. He wasn't afraid to stand up to her anymore; his confidence had blossomed since he met her. He would no longer do whatever she told him to without first questioning it.

She scowled and screeched at him, "He is a bastard and you know it, but I will not have you marrying the Botwin whore to change that."

"My son is no bastard, Pilar, and Nancy is no whore," he yelled back. They had fallen into a pattern: fight, make love, fight, make love, discuss business, fight once more. Though, as their affair became more and more strained, and as Nancy captured more and more of Esteban's heart, the sexual encounters lessened, and the conflicts increased. She sensed that he was soon going to totally separate from her; she felt it coming and, though it felt pathetic, was only biding her time until the bitter end.

Their argument fell silent, and their angry breathing became the only sound to be heard. Pilar grinned, "Well, then we must go and see your _darling boy_, Esteban. Let us pray that he hasn't inherited his father's sense of reason."

* * *

><p>After a week of taking no action at all, she arranged to have the <em>gringa<em> shot, and in the midst of Pilar's fury – when the bullet missed and Esteban ended up marrying her anyway – she replaced him on the ticket for governor. When he came to her house after hearing the news, he was livid. At that point, they no longer met as lovers or arranged secret trysts, though the tension between them never ceased to exist until the very end. She had been certain that his feelings for her had disappeared, and that they had moved onto Nancy. Judging by the way he looked at Pilar when her servant ushered him into the grand foyer, he all but hated her. Though the thought of her former lover despising her unnerved Pilar, she shook away the feelings as if they were pesky flies buzzing in her ear, trying to draw her away from what she should be focusing on.

"Why?" he asked her, "Why would you replace me on the ballot?"

"You went against my wishes. I will not sponsor a man who does not want to do what is best for himself-" she spat back.

"I do want what is best for myself, and what is best for myself is Nancy – and my son." She scoffed at the inevitable mention of the _gringa's_ name, but he continued, "This is not your mind talking, Pilar, and you know it."

She tensed. How dare he insinuate that she was jealous, that her envy was doing this to her? He was doing this to himself; her heart had no part in it, "If you are suggesting, Esteban Reyes, that I would sink so low as to be jealous of that fucking whore's life, then you should leave. Now. Before I do something I will regret later."

He approached her so they were face to face, and spoke quietly with his tiger grin one final time before leaving her, "How much…easier things would be, now, if only we had never been involved in the first place."

* * *

><p>Pilar knew that Esteban regretted all those years of being infatuated with her, of allowing her to rule over his heart for so long that he nearly forgot what loving another was like. She did all she could to keep him under her control; she ordered the killing of his mistress for Christ's sake! She could do nothing more without totally compromising her pride.<p>

When she heard that he planned to run for governor independently, she roped him back in and put her support behind him once more. She realized that, if he won while running independently, she would look like a fool for letting him go, and she couldn't have that scar her public image. Taking him back was the only thing that made sense to her, even though she was still furious at him. She knew he had a chance; she knew he could win because the people loved him.

One night, they both attended a campaign fundraiser at an old friend's home. It was a quiet function – as most fundraisers were – but somehow, Esteban managed to drink too much, upset over a fight with Nancy as he was. When he started to cause a scene, Pilar tugged him aside roughly and scowled at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, getting drunk at your own campaign fundraiser?" she demanded the instant they were out of earshot from the others at the party. She grabbed his glass and threw it at the wall. She watched the golden liquor drip down the wall and pool onto the floor. Pilar knew that most of her frustrations were because they had been on speaking terms for a week and hadn't fucked each other yet, as the familiar cycle of theirs dictated: fight, make love, fight, make love.

"You did not need to break that…very expensive glass, _mi amor_," he laughed, and she swallowed. He hadn't called her '_mi amor_' since he had met Nancy, and it made her freeze. Could it be that he finally realized the Botwin whore was no good for him? That she would be the only woman he'd ever really love? The thought excited her more than she cared to admit, but she kept it hidden behind a curtain of indifference.

"You need to lie down, Esteban. Rest for a while and come back when you feel as though you can give at least the _impression _that you will make a good governor," Pilar recovered her composure and threw open the door to a bedroom at the end of the long hallway. She did not hesitate to push him inside it.

"Rest with me." Though she knew his behavior was heavily influenced by the alcohol in his blood, she couldn't help but grin at his offer. Pilar shook her head.

"No. I must return to the party, and give the hosts some excuse why the future governor of Baja California is not at his own fundraiser," she told him. Esteban did not heed her words, and gently pulled her into the dark room with him, chuckling when he realized that she was not fighting him. He knew; he could see it in her eyes that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and that she was tired of waiting for him to make a move.

"Just like it was when we were younger, isn't it?" Esteban asked, his voice deep and throaty, and she nodded. The door was closed behind her and locked securely within seconds. The room itself was nearly pitch black, except for the tiny bit of moonlight streaming in from the window that brightened hardly anything. Neither could each other's face; they could scarcely see the outline of the other's body. Still, they had been with each other hundreds of times, and the two of them knew their lover like the back of their hand.

"It was my twentieth birthday," she recalled aloud. Her breaths already came in pants, and they were still – except for his shirt – fully clothed. Pilar could not see it, but he smirked at the memory as he slid her small black dress off her body and ran his hands over her skin.

"You were so afraid of…dying young," he reminded her, and she nodded, and then gasped as his lips came to her neck and his fingers moved down to remove her panties, and shortly after, her bra, leaving her naked in front of him, vulnerable to his touch. The lust in between her legs was growing more and more insistent, and he wasn't moving fast enough for her. She was tired of waiting for him; she was tired of missing the feeling of him inside. She had never longed for much in her life, except him. She always longed for him.

"Yes, I remember," she breathed. Before Pilar could even fathom that he was removing the lower half of his clothing, she felt him push into her, for the first time in nearly a year, and the pleasure it brought felt as though it had tipped the globe on its very axis. Yes, they had stopped their meetings for a while after Esteban married Constanza, but it had not been as painful for her as the halt they'd taken when he began dating Nancy. When they came back together after the first break, the pleasure was not as great as that which they were enveloped in the second time.

As their bodies rocked together in a rhythm they'd mastered over the years, she took a moment to run her fingers over his back to see if there were any of Nancy's markings on him. Her blood nearly ran cold when she found a series of scratches near his shoulder, but a hard thrust from him made her close her eyes and forget she ever saw them in the first place. She didn't want to fight while making love; she only wanted to savor the feeling that she knew might soon be gone with the numbness of the alcohol.

Intoxicated as he was, Esteban climaxed after only a few minutes, and lay down beside her, caressing her cheek gently with one of his fingers with a smile on his face. She wondered if he even remembered who Nancy Botwin was, but she was not about to go and remind him.

"You know, Nancy asked me, once, if I'd ever slept with you," he put an arm around her, and drew her into his chest.

Pilar drew a deep breath of air into her lungs. The question did not alarm her, for she had no problem with the_ gringa_ knowing that they'd slept together. Calmly, she inquired, "What did you tell her?"

Before smirking and moving his mouth down between her legs, Esteban replied, "I told her you had teeth down there."

* * *

><p>The next morning, he arrived at her home, a little hungover but sober. She met him outside as she oft did, at a table near her pool. She assumed that he would kiss both her hands when he arrived like he usually did once they resumed their pattern of love making, but when she first laid eyes on him, she could see that his demeanor was cool, tense. He was not there to display affection toward her. He looked as though he was attending a funeral.<p>

"Esteban," she acknowledged him with a nod, and he nodded back. It always amazed her how, the day after fucking each other, they could pretend like nothing had ever happened, how easily they could bring their thoughts away from their love making.

After an appropriate moment of silence, he spoke tersely, "Last night was… a mistake on my part; a momentary lapse in judgment." She scowled and opened her mouth to talk, but he continued with a businesslike countenance, "It will not happen again."

Shocked and disoriented, Pilar laughed, "You must be kidding-"

"I am not kidding. I have a lovely wife, and a family. I would be a fool to jeopardize that-"

"You have jeopardized it before," she seethed at him, shattering his weak argument into pieces. Although she hated to admit it, she felt herself getting desperate, and she felt her calm fading away. Pilar knew that it was the end, and yet she couldn't make herself understand why, when they could still share a night of passion like the last. Pilar didn't understand what it was about Nancy that made him crazy enough to give all of her up, "You risked your marriage with Constanza for me. You have laid it on the line for this before-"

"But I did not love Constanza. And I am in love… with Nancy."

"Stop it!" she spat at him. To him, she seemed angry, but within her mind, she was struggling to hold on to logic. By the very look on his face, Pilar could almost see that his once prominent adoration for her was gone. Still, she did not understand, "You know you do not love her. You've only ever loved me, Esteban Reyes, and you know it."

He sighed, and grinned, folding his arms, "But you have not loved me, Pilar Zuazo."

"Who says I do not love you?" she fired back before she could stop herself. Though years ago, that may have stopped Esteban in his tracks, he only shook his head as if he were talking to a child with foolish notions of romance. He was beyond caring whether or not she loved him; he was not a boy any more.

"You do not love me, Pilar. The only person you could ever bring yourself to love…is yourself. I do not blame you for it. In the business we are in, you're better off."

"You are an idiot if you think-"

His face looked grim, as he looked her in the eyes on last time before turning to leave, "I will see you…at your fundraiser tonight. Goodbye."

She watched him go, and a part of her yearned to call out his name and kiss him, and make him realize that the Botwin woman was all wrong for him, that she was the only woman he'd ever really want. But a part of her knew that he would only push her away, and she didn't want to have to face the shame his rejection once more. Pilar breathed in and out speedily, and stiffened her muscles. She had a party to go to; she had cameras to smile for and people to wave at and politicians to charm. Esteban Reyes was only a secondary focus in her life. She couldn't allow him to obsess her mind. It would ruin her, like the Botwin had ruined Esteban. No, she would not let something so stupid as romance destroy her sense of reason.

She took a seat, and stared out at the pool she never used. It astounded her to think how many memories of hers in which he appeared. He was her puppet to control, she thought, in all aspects of his life except where his amours truly lied. She could not make him love her again; she could take him out of the election and destroy his career and cast him into disgrace, but she could not make him love her if he loved the Botwin woman instead. It almost made her laugh. She controlled him – all of him. She made him who he was. She made him fall in love with her, and perhaps it was she who made him fall out of love with her as well. Whatever happened, she should've seen it coming. She should've realized that they could not continue what they were doing forever. Things like that, she realized, were never meant to last.

* * *

><p>Later that day, one of her informants enlightened her about Nancy's plan to have her killed. It did not surprise her; Pilar did, after all, shoot her son and arrest her husband. But the<em> gringa<em> had made the mistake of hiring a hit man who worked for her, and who did not hesitate to inform her of Nancy's plans so she could be stopped.

Pilar went on with her day like it was a normal one, as death threats no longer deeply bothered her. She'd steeled herself to them. Pilar hosted the fundraiser at her mansion, as she often had before, and set out preparing for it. It was a simple party like every other, but that time, she planned to confront the _gringa_ who stole Esteban and arranged to have her shot. The setup had to be good, quiet, so Nancy would suspect nothing. Pilar was tired of being in the background to this woman; she was going to tell that bitch what it was like and have her accept it.

The party began, and Esteban arrived promptly with Nancy and her two sons – Silas and Shane – by his side. He greeted Pilar with a smile, but his eyes were not friendly, and expressed a desire to be talking to anyone except her. He was through with her and she knew it, but for the sake of appearances, she said nothing but '_hola_' to him and then moved on to chat with another politician. Over the course of the half hour that she allotted Nancy at the party, the _gringa_ never left his side, smiling and talking to making witty remarks that, somehow, seemed to charm the partygoers, though a few still disapproved of Esteban's marriage to a foreigner and were cold towards her. Pilar made sure that those select few were given the best of treatment.

After the Botwin whore's time was up, Pilar pulled her outside near her pool, and complimented her dress while strolling slowly alongside her, each step carefully planned and full of purpose.

"Well thank you," she answered stiffly, and Pilar smirked. She could feel the tension in the woman beside her, and she savored the smell of fear, "You look nice too."

Pilar was done pretending and being formal with the bitch would should've stayed in America and spared her much trouble, "So," she drawled, "Guillermo. Interesting choice." She did not lock eyes with the Botwin while speaking, but she could sense the instant terror from the woman beside her immediately.

"Guillermo?" Nancy asked beside her. Her innocence was badly feigned, and Pilar turned to her with a laugh.

"I admire the_ cojones_. Next time, you might want to hire someone who doesn't work for me, and who isn't still mad at you for ratting him out," she said the words without haste, so she could fully savor Nancy's shock.

The _gringa_, however, recovered rather quickly for someone who had not been long involved in the world of Mexican crime and politics, "I'll keep that in mind – next time. Now, if you'll excuse me, some bitch told me I had to leave early." Nancy began to turn away from her, and Pilar, angered at the woman's words, reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards her. The woman's eyes quickly displayed surprise, but it was gone as fast as it came, and she replied, "Your press-on nails are digging into my arm."

"You think this is a joke?" Pilar asked calmly, indifferent to her words.

Nancy's jaw tightened as she finally jerked her arm out of Pilar's grasp, "You took a fucking shot at me and you hit my kid. _And_ you cut my husband's balls off. That's three you – four, if we count the balls separately."

Although she hated every pint of the woman's blood and every ounce of her flesh, Pilar did admit that Nancy amused her. The bitch actually thought she could scare her – _her_, a Zuazo, one of the most influential people in Mexican politics. Pilar wasn't sure who the hell this woman thought she was, but she was going to put her in her place and she would see to it that Nancy did not step out of it.

"Make it six," she spoke menacingly, in a tone that was still even and formal.

Nancy thought for a moment, then replied, "We're counting yours, too?"

Pilar grinned, and acted as though she was contemplating the words as they left her mouth, "Esteban needs you and the baby for photos, but – uh – Silas and Shane they are, uh, what's the word? Extraneous. We don't need them to complete our pretty pictures."

Nancy gulped, and looked her right in the eyes. Her fear was hardly hidden, and Pilar knew she had hit the right target with her words, "You come anywhere near my children I'll kill you myself."

Once again, the threats did nothing to faze her. The _gringa_ did not frighten her; she was weak, powerless, a mere trophy wife for Esteban in the eyes of the people, "You look stunning in black," she continued provocatively, the ever-present grin still written on her features, "The people will be very sympathetic to the grieving mother who has just lost her beautiful children in a tragic-" she pretended to think of the ways she could end the lives of Nancy's sons. She tilted her head to one side, "-Car accident? Or perhaps a… _plane crash_. Or perhaps-"

Suddenly, Pilar was cut off. She didn't see it coming. She wasn't expecting it. She didn't see Shane Botwin, the _gringa_ whore's son, jump out of the bushes with a croquet mallet in hand, until he swung it at her head with startling, premeditated precision. The last thing she heard with her earthly ears was the sickening _crack_ that it made when it connected with her skull and neck, sending her stumbling down into the pool – dead within seconds.

* * *

><p>Pilar Zuazo opens her eyes, and realizes that she is standing on the side of the pool. Her floating corpse and the crimson stained pool water surrounding it are only a few feet away, as are Nancy and her killer, Shane. Nancy is looking at her son with shock, devastation, horror. Pilar knows that Nancy is aware of what this will mean – the murder of a media mogul by her teenage son.<p>

"A croquet mallet?" the boy finally speaks up, as he watches his victim's body suspended helplessly in the water before him, the wound on her head bleeding out. For one so young, he looks as though he has no remorse, "I couldn't find a golf club."

Suddenly, Pilar realizes that she is dead, that this must be her soul detached from her body; a soul only there to observe the aftermath of her demise, invisible to the eyes of the world. For a moment, though, she wants to laugh at the way she died: killed by an adolescent American boy, the son of Nancy Botwin. She – Pilar Zuazo, the best of the best, the elite of Mexican society, a woman of untouchable prestige – brought down by a mere child. It is humiliating! This is not the way she wanted to die; she wanted to die an old lady, feared and revered by Mexico. She did not want to be killed because of her position in society, but nonetheless, she was. Oh, she has feared dying young all her life, and so many people, Esteban included, assured her that it would never happen, but she had always known. Pilar had known from the day her father was killed that she, too, would be murdered. It is typical in Mexico – and, she thinks, the secret catch in the inheritance her father gave her.

She wants to release her anger at Nancy and Shane, but even though she tries to, she can summon up no fury. All she can feel is tranquility, a feeling she rarely experienced during her lifetime. She had always wondered what it would be like to have no worries or fears, and it feels wonderful to her now that she knows what it is like. So she watches, unmoving, as the terrified _gringa_ activates the automated pool cover that takes her dead body out of sight in one swift movement. As the bloodstained water gradually disappears underneath it, Pilar closes her eyes, and suddenly, she sees Esteban.

She sees him inside the party, socializing with all the right people, making jokes, telling stories, winning hearts with that ambitious grin of his. As the peace she feels fully envelops her mind, she smiles at him. She knows that he's meant to be a politician, but with her death, the government will launch investigations into their activities together, and that alone will likely decimate his support. She knows that it's likely that without her, he won't become governor. She was his most powerful supporter. Sadly, she thinks, he doesn't stand a chance now, what with the scandal of marrying an American woman and the scandal of her murder in the media.

Content as she is, though, she finally allows herself to admit that she loves him. She's always loved him, but throughout all the years they were together, she never told him, no matter how many nights he spent in her bed, his body thrusting into hers or his lips kissing every inch of her flesh. He'll never know, for he thinks her incapable of loving anyone but herself and told her so. He's right, she thinks, for that may have been what her mind was mainly concerned with, but inside her soul, she knows that she's loved him all along. Now, though, it's too late for him to know; she cannot say things, because she's dead. Besides, he has the Botwin whore; although she doesn't know how much longer that woman will be around after her son's shocking crime. But Esteban must still love her, somewhere inside his soul. She laughs a bit to herself. She'd always wanted to die holding his heart in her hand; she never wanted to die with him indifferent to her.

For a second, she is inside the party, standing right next to him as he speaks to another politician. She rests her hand on his shoulder lightly with her otherworldly touch, silently reminding him that she is nearby though she has breathed her last and always will be, even if he no longer loves her as he once did. Though Pilar expects no reaction, Esteban's head abruptly turns to look down at where she'd touched him, as if he has felt it, as if he has sensed something is terribly, terribly wrong. The man he is talking to furrows his eyebrow and asks him if he's okay. Esteban just shakes his head with a chuckle. He tells him yes, and shakes off the eerie feeling, continuing on with his conversation. Smiling, Pilar lets go her hand from his shoulder, and turns away. Without a look back at him, she leaves the party, and instinctively arrives back at the pool, at the scene of her death, back at the spot she was standing at when she first awoke in this ethereal world hardly two minutes ago.

Pilar hasn't a clue what will become of them – any of them: Esteban Reyes, her lover, Nancy Botwin, her rival, or Shane Botwin, her killer. But, dead she is, she cannot do a thing to influence their fates any longer. Even if she wanted to, she could do nothing. For once in her life, the great Pilar Zuazo is left powerless.

Now, there is nothing left to do but fade away.


End file.
